


Omega

by VolxdoSioda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, abo spitefic, abo trope fix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: "He's an Omega, sire."Cor and Clarus both hiss in sharp breaths. "You're certain?" Cor demands. "Absolutely positive?""Six," Clarus mutters. "Why don't we just stick 'Amicitia' to the end of his name now while we've got the documents in front of us?"Crown Prince Noctis is born an Omega. This changes a lot of things, though not in the way people think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing a lot of the bullshit rapey tropes of the abo kind has stirred up my seething hatred for the trope again. So here, have a spitefic that may or may not be expanded on later.

"King Regis, may I present to you your son, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum?" The nurse comes out holding a swaddled bundle of fabric, and Regis damn near falls over in his haste to stand up. Only Cor by his arm keeps him steady as, with shaking hands, he take his son for the first time.

 _Gods above,_ he's so  _small._

"I assure you that's perfectly normal," the nurse smiles, and Regis thinks he must have said it out loud. "He's at a nice healthy weight, if a bit smaller than normal babies. I'm sure he'll shoot up in no time. Although..." and here she hesitates, and then seems to shake it off. "He's an Omega, sire."

Cor and Clarus both hiss in sharp breaths. "You're certain?" Cor demands. "Absolutely positive?"

"Six," Clarus mutters. "Why don't we just stick Amicitia to the end of his name now while we've got the documents in front of us?"

Regis knows what 'Omega' amounts to, and he's inclined to agree. "You can be his uncle. Two uncles, even. He's going to need both of you in the coming days."

"We're positive, sire," the nurse says. "We checked it four times on the machines, and all results said the same."

Regis sighs, and kisses his son on the forehead. "Only just born, and already plotting ways to make my hair go grey at the speed of light. My darling boy."

"Well," Clarus says with a small laugh and a consolatory pat on the shoulder, "At least we'll all go grey together."

That part, at least, is true enough.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

In terms of battle, Omegas are the equivalent of the Shield, meant to protect the members of the group from assaults from the enemy line. Nature intended this by making them hardier, allowing them to take assaults and lure enemies in with scent and sight. The 'heats' they go through are not dissimilar to warrior trances, when their minds are so focused on taking out the enemy they don't notice the damage they've received, and they're actually able to get away from fatal wounds simply because of all the tricks their bodies are pulling to keep them going.

But more than simply being a Shield, Omegas are harriers, hounding enemies and luring them away from the hurt party, keeping their attention until whoever it is that's attacking can be brought down. And if nobody is able to help them, Omegas can go completely offensive, although most won't take this tactic immediately.

Alphas are the aggressors, meant to do the serious damage. Betas are the safe middle ground, although they're more magically inclined than any. In a fight, all three are meant to keep each other covered and reduce the amount of damage held.

But history has given Omegas the short end of the stick, and so Prince Noctis grows up with a handful of men and women who understand his nature, who grasp why he comes home in tears and seems to swing between angry and tired so often. Because the rest of the world see a delicate little boy meant to be protected and sheltered and married off to an Alpha (or acceptable Beta) and not as a warrior meant to stand between his team and the enemy.

The worst part, Regis reflects one particularly rough evening as he holds his son close, is that nobody is even willing to  _listen_ to Noctis try to explain what he is. They humor him, and then they walk away and forget it. It's only thanks to Cor and Clarus that the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard understand what Noctis will be, and so they try to accommodate his urges whenever they crop up. Sometimes that means letting him stalk up and down the halls with Cor in the wee hours of the morning, because instinct says there's an enemy circling the gates and he needs to keep watch. Sometimes it's letting him practice spar with Clarus even though the older man is so much bigger and stronger, because his nature wants him to fight. 

Noctis is trying to prove himself as a capable Shield, and Regis is trying to make his kingdom  _see_ that Noctis isn't just some frightened young man that needs an Alpha. 

But it's an uphill battle always, with very few victories, and far too many tears.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Noctis is convinced Uncle Cor is secretly one of the Six, sent down to help him. Because it always seems like Noctis' life gets easier when Cor is around, or even Clarius and Gladio. Like the raging fury burning inside of him finally abates with the Alphas around, and he can finally just be himself, and not what his teachers keep chiding him to be. Soft and mindful and delicate.

He doesn't  _want_ to be those things. He wants to be sturdy like the earth, unmoving like the mountains. He wants to protect and love and cherish those around him, but nobody  _gets_ that.

His dad is also a blessing, and he never puts up a fight when Noctis insists on walking with him and Cor and the others to the meeting room, on standing outside the doors and keeping an eye on the halls. None of the adults in that group treat him like a small child playing a game - they treat him like one of the warriors in the Kingsglaive.

Hell, even the Kingsglaive treat him like that. Like he's one of theirs, just smaller.

Out of all of them, he probably likes Nyx the best. Nyx is funny and sharp and witty, and he's got really cool daggers that he teaches Noctis tricks with. Uncle Cor and Uncle Clarus teach him weapons too, but Nyx teaches him daggers specifically, and it's thanks to him that he learns a dagger is your best friend when you have to get up close and personal, but also if you have to go for range. 

Unfortunately, he spends far more time outside the ranges of all the people who make him feel like he can be himself than inside the range, and so he grows up frustrated and crying a lot. He tries not to, when he gets older, because he doesn't want to worry his dad or uncles and because he's been told  _real men don't cry, stupid,_ and that kind of hurt. 

The second only lasts until Cor finds him in a side hallway one evening, biting his lip and clawing his arms up while he mutters  _don't cry, stupid,_ at himself. "What are you doing?" the man demands in a tone that brooks no arguement, and so Noctis tells him, because  _it's Uncle Cor._

Cor stares at him flatly. "Crying is a natural outlet of  _stress._ There's nothing stupid about it, especially not given the situation you're in. It's fine, Noctis. So stop holding yourself back, and stop listening to those people. It's done nothing but hurt you."

His Uncle Cor is definitely one of the Six. Probably Ramuh in disguise, because he's far too wise not to be. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The day the people of his kingdom finally seem to  _grasp_ Noctis isn't some demure little prince waiting for rescue is the day an anti-government group holds his school hostage and kidnaps him and several other children from noble families to be used as bargaining chips.

The other kids are crying and their kidnappers are snarling threats, but Noctis is calm through sheer fury. Every instinct he has is telling him to put the other kids behind him and start breaking bones, no matter how small he is. He waits for first opportunity, and then snaps his restraints and takes off.

"Hey ugly!"

They give chase, leaving the other kids behind to be rescued by whoever's on the way - it wouldn't surprise Noctis if every last bit of armada force is fixing to come down on these guys' heads. His dad is scary when he's mad, and kidnapping Noctis is one way to make him and his uncles absolutely  _furious._

So Noctis buys time by ducking under branch and bush and over rocks and leading them on one hell of a run. He knows the exact moment his dad and uncles touch ground because he senses the fury of his clan radiating from the building. So like a good Shield he ferrets them all right back into the building. The kids are gone, and the Kingsglaive are waiting. 

Cor catches him and pulls him behind him just as the King's Shield takes up the honor of beating the ever-loving fuck out of the men that kidnapped Noctis.

"Good job, little Shield," Cor praises. "None of them were hurt."

The praise and and the knowledge that his uncles are proud of him is enough to fill him with happiness. He's fulfilled his job as Shield. 

Of course there's interviews in the aftermath, the public wanting to know if their prince is safe, and the children who were with Noctis talking about how cool he was, how he kept calm and saved them. The public finds it all terribly amazing, and it leads to a lot more people researching Omegas and finding out the truth. That they're not just some maiden up in a tower, but they're actual  _warriors_ in their own right.

His teachers stop trying to talk him into being soft and demure. His classmates stop teasing him about crying. The number of people he wants to hit goes down by a few dozen numbers.

It's not a bad start, all told.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Years later, Insomnia will fall. Regis will die. Clarus will die. Cor will remain, and it will be his voice that tells Noctis,  _"It's time to take up your mantle, little Shield."_

And Noctis, thousands of miles from home, fury and wrath burning a hole through him, will listen to it all, and let Ignis and Gladio and Prompto build a camp. He will wait until they're asleep, the rain putting them down fast, and then leave the tent and wander into the darkness.

And there, he will roar his challenge to the sky.  _War,_ he screams, and the fiends come to him like moths to a flame,  _I will take back my kingdom. I am the Shield, and I will not be stopped._

In the morning, Ignis will panic at the sheer amount of blood covering him, and Gladiolus will snarl at him about protecting him and he will snarl back  _that's my job, asshole,_ and Prompto will ask if he's okay and if he needs anything.

Life will go on. 

And Noctis will meet every challenge with a snarl on his lips and fury in his gut.


	2. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Clarus and Cor gone, Gladiolus is left to take on Noctis' Heats.
> 
> It isn't pretty, but what is these days?

Something's up with Noctis, and Gladiolus is pretty sure he knows what it is. 

There's been a smell to the young Prince as of late - something that he's smelled rarely, usually only in the aftermath of an especially harsh fight between them, or between Noctis and one of his classmates, and even then it's only been a thin fragrance, never a full blown scent like it is today.

It clings to Noctis like his sweat, and with every deep breath Gladio takes, the more certain he is of what it means. Noctis has fallen under influence of his Heat, which would also explain his desire to take point lately, and his failure to heal himself even as he popped potions for them all and rushed to their side as soon as they got hit. 

"Ignis," he calls. "You mind taking Prompto for a walk?"

Ignis is aware of what Noctis is. Prompto knows too, though not the full details of what it entails. He only knows Omegas are protectors, much the same way as Gladiolus is, and they're hard-wired to keep their group safe. He hasn't yet been on the downswing of one of Noctis' Heats. Gladio isn't about to let him, either. Especially not now, given Regis is gone.

Ignis nods. "Of course. Prompto, we're going to go find some ingredients."

"Okay? Uh, you and Noct gonna be okay, big guy?" Prompto looks over at him uneasily.

"I'll be fine, no worries. Get going."

"Yeah, okay! Uh, be safe, I guess?"

He gives them until they're out of sight before he takes in another deep breath, and calls his weapons. His shield he's going to especially need - with Noctis as on edge as he is, he's going to be defending quite a bit.

"Yo Noct. C'mon, Iggy took Prompto for a walk."

Noctis has stayed in the tent a good portion of the morning. Now he emerges, red eyed and smelling like a swelling summer storm. His sword is already in hand, and he's eyeing Gladio like a dying man eyeing a phoenix down.

"C'mon," Gladio murmurs again, and steps back until he's on the edge of the camp. "Let it out, Noct."

It takes a little time for Noctis to really let the Heat take. But once it takes, his hits come sharper and faster, and Gladio truly has to be at the top of his game to avoid getting killed. Noctis is sweating, snarling and locked on to him like a dog with a bone. Even when Gladio's wounded, he doesn't stop. His sword tears through Gladio's side, taking the shirt with it. Gladio slams his shield into Noctis' leg, and he  _knows_ something breaks.

They keep going.

It's a dance between Alpha and Omega now, fellow warriors and Shields, each ready to lay down their life for the other. It's been a point of contention between them for a long while - Gladio has to guard Noctis, but Noctis needs to guard him too. A Shield can't guard another Shield, because that's just a waste of protection. So Gladio's been trying to focus on Ignis or Prompto, but inevitably, he finds himself dragged back to Noctis. 

Noctis always fights him. Refuses to let him  _be_ a Shield, and will antagonize him on just how  _aggressive_ he really is until they wind up fighting, and the cycle goes on.

Their swords clash and lock, and Gladio can smell their scents mingling, summer storm falling back into hot air and burning wood. Noctis snarls, tries to push harder but Gladio holds him there, refuses to let him budge so easily.

In the past, it was Clarus or Cor who took the Heats with Noctis, and they had the honor of being stronger than Noctis, of letting him push and yank and demand until at last he was nearing the edge of the Heat, and then they'd simply throw him down and pin him until the instinct to yield finally took over. It took a day, somedays a day and a half, but not much more. Noctis has never had much stamina.

Gladiolus has done it before too, but it takes longer, and it's usually messy with both of their blood by the end. Still, after today he can't let Ignis and Prompto return to another half-day of Noctis' Heat, so he's going to have to do it eventually. 

He makes his move now, slamming his sword up to dislodge Noctis', and then swatting it aside. Before Noctis can warp, Gladio tackles him, and they go down in a tumble.

Noctis screams, howls, and fights him even as Gladio gets a hand around his throat and slams up him up against rock, holding him there bodily. "Yield,Noctis," he growls, and puts every bit of Alpha dominating hormone he can into the air, tide meeting tide. " _Yield,_ Noctis!"

The screams and howls taper off into a continued growl, Noctis squirming against him, not quite fighting but not quite giving up either. Testing him. Testing his resolve as Alpha to see how much the order will hold.

Gladio tightens his grip as much as he dares, snaps his teeth by Noctis' ear and demands a third time, " _Yield,_ Noctis."

The growling stops, and they're eye-to-eye. Gladio holds his gaze, and doesn't blink. They're in the final grips of the Heat now, Noctis' resolve burning down to the dregs. He can do this. He has to. Clarus isn't around anymore, and Cor is alive, but he's got better things to do than rush halfway from wherever he is to put Noctis under his thumb again. It has to be him. 

And finally, Noctis' body goes pliant beneath him, his gaze closing as he turns his head, the growling stopped. He's accepted the order, and will allow Gladio to patch and bandage him without complaint.

Gladio lets out a breath, and removes his hand from Noctis' neck, leaning back. "Good boy," he says. An old habit he never quite shook, from his father and Cor when they said it when Noctis finally gave in. Praise to soften the blow of having to stop protecting. Of basically being told  _simmer down, we're stronger than you, we protect ourselves._

It'll only last until next time. And Heats build  _fast_ nowadays, one coming practically every two weeks. Gladio gently pulls him up, gets the bandages and potions out, and starts healing them both up.

By the time Ignis and Prompto come back, the camp has been set back to rights, all sign of blood taken from both of them, and it's just about dusk. Time to call it a night. 

"Better?" Prompto asks, gently nudging Noctis as they sit by the fire. 

Noctis grunts and nods, exhausted now. He'll eat and climb into bed, where Gladio will wrap an arm around him and act as standing Shield, even in sleep. It'll earn him dirty looks, but Gladio doesn't care. He's Noctis' Shield, his pack, and he'll meet whatever violence Noctis wants to dish out with open arms. 

Besides, it's not like the brat won't be watching their backs the whole way to Altissia. There's more than one way to skin a cat, and more than one way for Noctis to let his nature be fed. Even if Gladio would prefer he didn't.


End file.
